


Odds Are

by Brumeier



Series: At The Movies [8]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Acting, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Angst, Community: story-works, Divorce, First Kiss, First Meetings, Friendship, Multi, Mutual Pining, Poker Nights, Roommates, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 04:04:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: Movie Fusion: The Odd CoupleCan two divorced men share an apartment without driving each other crazy?John is divorced, out of the military, and starting over in a new city. Rodney's wife threw him out and he needs a place to stay until she comes to her senses. They meet when they come to see the same apartment, and end up becoming roommates.  John explores his sexuality for the first time, Rodney tries to get back in Jennifer's good graces, and without even realizing it they start caring about each other. But can they have a happy ending?





	1. November

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Story_Works Harlequin Big Bang. Also fills my AU: Fusion square for Trope Bingo.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156598319@N08/36180116253/in/dateposted-friend/)

* * *

**November**

“I was here first. I call dibs.” Rodney crossed his arms over his chest, ready to fight for what he wanted.

“You can’t call dibs on an apartment,” his adversary replied. He looked amused instead of intimidated, which wasn’t what Rodney was going for at all.

The realty agent, who looked far too young to be in the business, was clearly distressed by the situation if her constant hand-wringing was any indication.

“Mr. McKay, Professor Sheppard, I’m sure there’s a way to work this out.”

“I was here first,” Rodney reiterated.

“By two minutes. Pretty sure that doesn’t count.” The professor leaned against the door, slinky and boneless and way too good-looking to be a teacher. “Besides, you said you’re looking for a temporary place. I need something long-term.”

“So you can have it when I’m done.” That seemed like a perfectly reasonable solution to Rodney. He was sure he wouldn’t need the apartment for too long. Jennifer would realize what a terrible mistake she’d made, kicking him out, and then he could go back to his old life. Six months, tops.

"Yeah, that’s not really gonna work for me.”

“This is _my_ apartment,” Rodney said with his best glare for emphasis. “It’s one subway stop to work, and the rent could only be lower if someone got murdered here.”

The realty agent made a noise of distress that had both Rodney and the handsome professor staring at her.

“Was there a murder here?” Rodney asked incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

“I can assure you, Mr. McKay, we had professional cleaners come in. And all the walls were repainted.”

Rodney could admit that he wavered for the briefest moment. _Murder_ , for goodness sake, and a messy one by the sounds of it. But that was weighed against the large terrace with the view of Childress Park and the hardwood floors. Besides, what self-respecting ghost would haunt a modern apartment building?

Unfortunately, the professor was thinking the same thing.

“I still want the apartment,” he said.

“Wasn’t I clear? This is mine.”

“Can’t you just share it?” the realty agent blurted out. “It’s got three bedrooms!”

The professor laughed, until he realized he was laughing alone. Then he just looked bewildered. “Share?”

“The idea has merit,” Rodney said thoughtfully. He wasn’t a genius for nothing, and he could see the benefits. The professor didn’t.

“No way. I’m not looking for a roommate.”

“Come on, uh…what’s your name?”

The professor frowned. “John Sheppard.”

Rodney tried to commit that to memory. “Sheppard. I’d only be here for a few months. Just think of the money you can save if you only have to pay half the rent, and on a professor’s salary you’ll need it.”

“I don’t even know you,” the professor protested.

“What’s to know? Neither of us is going to find another apartment this nice for this amount of money. We’re mature, intelligent men. We can make this work.”

Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck, still looking uncertain, but Rodney was sure he could win the man over. If not, he’d turn in his Drama League Award.

“Look,” he said, maintaining eye contact with Sheppard and sounding as earnest as he could. “I have the money to pay my share of the rent, we can split all the other utilities, as well as the groceries, and we can work out a schedule so that we’re not up each other’s ass all the time. You won’t even know I’m here.” 

The realty agent looked at them hopefully. 

Sheppard let out a gusty breath. “All right, McKay. I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

He held out his hand and Rodney shook it with a grin. “You won’t regret this!”

*o*o*o*

“McKay!”

Rodney scowled at the interruption. He was working on his monologue and he didn’t need Sheppard bellowing at him from the other room. He already missed the three gloriously quiet days he’d had in the new apartment before Sheppard started moving his stuff in.

Well, if he was hoping Rodney would help him haul furniture in from the service elevator, he was sorely mistaken. He cleared his throat and started the monologue over.

“’All men hate the wretched. How, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom –’”

“McKay!”

“What?” he shouted back, annoyed.

“Get out here, please!”

Rodney tossed the monologue sheets on the dresser with a sigh. He hadn’t thought his new roommate would be so needy, which really wasn’t going to work for him. He needed quiet when he was working on his performances.

Sheppard and his friend, a giant of a man with dreadlocks, were holding opposite ends of a dark grey sofa so new it was still wrapped in plastic. The source of the problem was immediately apparent. 

“Does this thing belong to you?” Sheppard asked.

“He’s not a thing,” Rodney corrected. “His name is Barrymore.”

Barrymore was sitting in the middle of the sofa, ears back and growling. He was a disgruntled-looking cat at the best of times, but when he was angry he looked downright ferocious. Rodney approached with caution.

“Big cat,” Dreadlocks said.

“He’s a Maine Coon.”

“You didn’t say anything about pets,” Sheppard complained.

“Pet, singular, and you’ll have noticed his litter box isn’t in any of the common areas. Besides, he’s declawed.” 

Declawed he might be, but Barrymore still had all his teeth and no compunction about using them. It was one of the reasons he’d had to keep the cat kenneled while he looked for a new apartment; Jennifer hated him and, as far as Rodney could tell, the feeling was mutual.

"Wonderful. You need to get him off my couch.”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“Walking away!” Sheppard called after him.

Rodney popped into the kitchen and pulled the container of cat treats down from on top of the fridge. He wasn’t about to approach Barrymore empty-handed. Rodney shook the container and the cat came on the run seconds later.

“You’re welcome!” Rodney called out. The only response he received was grumbling from Sheppard and a deep laugh from Dreadlocks.

*o*o*o*

“Sheppard!” Rodney shouted from the kitchen. “Are you trying to murder me?”

“What is it now?” 

Sheppard leaned in the doorway, but Rodney was too affronted to be distracted by that slinky display. He opened the fridge and pointed an accusatory finger at the contents.

“This about the orange juice?” Sheppard craned his neck to see.

“I was very clear,” Rodney said, jaw clenched. “I have a severe citrus allergy. We talked about this.”

“So don’t drink it.”

“Don’t _drink_ it?” Rodney slammed the door shut. “And what about when _you_ drink it? You wash your glass after, but what if you dribble some on the counter and don’t realize it?”

“I don’t dribble.”

“The next thing you know I come in to grab something to eat and I put my hand on the tainted counter. You know what happens next? My skin breaks out in hives, my throat closes up, and I can’t breathe.” Rodney mimed every action as he described it. “Best case scenario, I spent three days in the hospital hooked up to an IV and hopefully not trached. Worst case scenario, I can’t get to my epi pen in time and I’m the next dead body in this apartment.”

Sheppard looked a little pale, which Rodney was gratified to see. Maybe now his warning about his allergy would sink in. _Don’t drink it_ , for fuck’s sake. His roommate had never spent any quality time with a person with a severe allergy, that much was clear.

He’d never had to worry about citrus poisoning when he lived with Jennifer.

“I shouldn’t be afraid to use my own kitchen,” Rodney said. Which was definitely laying it on a little thick, but better safe than sorry. His last ER visit hadn’t been at all pleasant.

“Yeah, okay,” was all Sheppard said.

The next time Rodney went in the kitchen every trace of citrus was gone, except for a brand new lemon slice magnet prominently displayed on the fridge.

*o*o*o*

“I’m Canadian,” Rodney said. “We already had our Thanksgiving.”

“So you’re just gonna stay here?” Sheppard stood by the front door with his suitcase. “Don’t you have friends?”

“I don’t need to horn in on someone else’s holiday, thank you very much.” Rodney crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders. “I’ll have you know I got plenty of pity invites.”

He was missing Thanksgiving with Jennifer and it was still two days away. But she’d already be preparing some of the dishes and baking her pies. Rodney was usually the one who picked her father up from the airport, and they’d talk about Rodney’s newest project.

It was possible he’d miss Dan Keller just as much as his daughter.

“First year after a divorce is hard,” Sheppard said, sounding almost sympathetic.

“We’re not divorced,” Rodney replied automatically. “Were you married?”

“Yeah. Few years ago.

“She wasn’t a fan of Johnny Cash either?”

Sheppard didn’t rise to the bait, even though their latest music battle had only been a couple of days ago. Rodney had put the Phantom cast recording on to block out the horrific sound of that country music garbage, drowning out Cash with Sarah Brightman. It had escalated in volume until the guy in the apartment above them had come banging on their door.

“She wasn’t a fan of being a military wife.”

It occurred to Rodney that he knew almost nothing about his new roommate. “Wait. You were military?”

“Air Force.”

“And now you teach at a prep school. Interesting.”

The only reason Rodney knew which school Sheppard was teaching math classes for was because he had to wear the teacher version of the official school blazer, coat of arms and all.

Sheppard shrugged. “It’s really not.”

Rodney disagreed. There wasn’t much about Sheppard that screamed former military. Sure, he was incredibly tidy, but the unruly hair and the boneless posture were contradictory evidence.

“How’d you get through the first few months, after?” Rodney asked, honestly curious.

Sheppard smirked. “Jack Daniels. Gotta go, or I’ll miss my flight. Happy Thanksgiving, McKay.”

“Yeah. Same to you.”

Rodney thought maybe he’d order something out for dinner. Marika’s was always open on the holidays, and he knew for a fact she had a turkey special just for Thanksgiving. And then Sheppard opened the front door and Laura was on the other side, her hand raised to knock.

“Oh, no. Not you,” Rodney moaned.

“You must be the professor,” Laura said. She shook Sheppard’s hand. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you. We have a pool going on how long it takes before you throw Rodney off the balcony.”

“Um…”

“Sheppard, this is Laura Cadman. Atlantis Theater’s answer to Jaime Ray. Laura, John Sheppard. He’s going to miss his plane.”

“I really am. Nice to meet you.” Sheppard took his suitcase in hand and vanished down the hall.

Laura dropped down next to Rodney on the couch and slung her arm around his shoulders. “He’s cute. You jumped him yet?”

“Married,” Rodney reminded her.

“Separated. And come on. He’s super hot.”

“ _Married_.”

“She call you?” Laura asked.

“No,” Rodney sighed. He’d hoped Jennifer would realize how much she was missing him, especially during the holidays, but so far that hadn’t been the case.

“Her loss. Come on. Radek sent me to get you.”

“I don’t feel like it this year.”

“Lie. You love it.” Laura got back to her feet and pulled Rodney up. “We’ll even let you be King.”

Rodney wouldn’t admit how much he wanted that. Elizabeth hosted the whole theater group a couple days before Thanksgiving every year. They re-created a medieval feast, complete with costumes, and someone different got to be King or Queen each year and order everyone around. Jennifer had only attended once and then begged off every year after.

“Radek made the mashed turnips,” Laura said in a sing-song voice.

“Okay, fine. I’ll come.”

“Good, because I want to hear more about your roommate.”

Rodney rolled his eyes and grabbed his coat.


	2. December

**December**

“Full house, gentlemen. Read ‘em and weep.” Amelia reached for the pile of chips in the middle of the table but Evan stopped her by flipping his cards over.

“Straight flush, Sparky. Who’s weeping now?”

Evan flashed his dimples as he scooped up the chips and set about organizing them in neat, color-coded stacks.

John was glad they weren’t playing high stakes, or he’d be in trouble. He figured he’d start playing better once he got to know these people a bit more. Right now they were all strangers, except for Ronon. It had been nice of the guy to invite John to his weekly poker game.

While the cards were shuffled Evan got up to bring another plate of food to the felt-covered table.

“Anyone want a cream puff?”

“Hell yeah.” Aiden Ford, the fresh-out-of-college PE teacher at Hammond Prep, grabbed a handful.

Amelia handed one to John. “If Evan ever offers food, do yourself a favor and take it. Despite his many, many flaws, he’s an excellent cook.”

“Gee, thanks for the flattery.”

They seemed like a decent group. John knew Ronon from work, of course, where the big guy was running a poetry workshop. He’d seen Aiden around campus but this was the first time he’d spent any time with the kid. He seemed nice, if a little reckless with his betting. Evan was a cop and Amelia was a firefighter, and from what John could tell they were doing their best to keep that old rivalry alive.

“You settling in okay with the new roommate?” Amelia asked. “Ronon said he’s a real piece of work.”

John shrugged. “McKay’s all right, if you like Broadway show tunes and hypochondria.”

“He’s got a great cat,” Ronon said. He finished shuffling the deck and started dealing.

“Pretty sure the cat is plotting my murder.” John had never been much of a cat person, and Barrymore was a particularly hard cat to get close too. He was just as prickly as McKay, who had very little patience and almost no filter on the things that came out of his mouth.

“My grandma says cats steal your breath at night while you’re sleeping,” Aiden said. He picked up his cards and John could tell right away that he didn’t have anything good. Kid had a terrible poker face.

John had a pair of queens, which was a nice way to start off a hand. He tossed a chip into the center of the table. “I’m in.”

“Sit down, Barney,” Amelia said to Evan. “You have first bet.”

“Old wives tale. Cats are cool,” Ronon said. “Just doing their own thing. And McKay’s is enormous.”

Evan looked at his cards, completely stone-faced. “Your roommate is a stage actor, right? I wonder if I’ve seen anything he’s done.”

“Atlantis Theater,” Ronon said. “They did _Arsenic and Old Lace_ last year.”

“Oh, really? I saw that, it was really good. What part did John’s roommate play?”

“The homicidal brother.”

John snorted. “Yeah, I can see that. You should hear that guy when he’s on a tear. Which is all the time.”

Actually, John didn’t mind so much when McKay got on a rant. His face got flushed and his arms started waving around and he got a glint in his eye. John got oddly turned on by the whole picture, which was embarrassing.

“Ten,” Evan said, tossing more chips into the pot. Everyone else followed suit.

John discarded two cards and still only had a pair of queens when he got the new ones.

“I raise,” Evan said. More chips into the pot.

Aiden tossed his cards on the table. “I fold.”

“You fold more than origami,” Ronon said.

“That’s the nerdiest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Amelia added her chips to the pile. “I’m in.”

“Call.”

Evan had two pair, tens and aces. John tossed aside his queens with a sigh. “Does he win like this every time?”

“What can I say? I’ve got the mojo this week.”

“Dad?” 

Everyone turned to look at Evan’s teenage daughter, Ali. She had her dad’s blue eyes and dark hair, but John couldn’t tell if she had the dimples too. She was about an inch taller than him.

“Can I go up to Cali’s? She got a new video game.”

“Take your phone, and be back by eleven.”

“Thanks!” Ali gave him a kiss on the cheek and zipped out the door.

John watched her go, marveling at the strength she had. Ronon had given him the heads-up before they arrived that Ali was trans, just so he didn’t inadvertently say the wrong thing. It had taken John decades, and one failed marriage, to come to terms with his own sexuality. He was in awe of a girl who knew exactly who she was by the time she was fourteen years old. Evan was a damn good father.

“Your deal, John,” Ronon said, handing him the cards.

*o*o*o*

“Hot date tonight?” McKay asked. He had his feet up on the coffee table, laptop on his lap.

John checked himself over in the mirror by the door, jittery with nerves that he tried hard not to let show. He hadn’t been out on a proper date in longer than he could remember.

“Yeah. Is this shirt too…shiny?”

McKay set the laptop aside and walked over, his expression intent as he gave John a slow once-over. “By itself, maybe. Works with the outfit.”

John turned back to the mirror. Black sport coat, black jeans, and the bright blue shirt that had a satiny sheen to it. Maybe he should change into something more understated.

“Am I trying too hard?”

“First date since the divorce?” McKay guessed.

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be awkward and horrible.”

“Gee, thanks for the encouragement, McKay.”

McKay flapped a hand at John. “No, listen. Set your expectations really low. Don’t expect you’re going to find your soulmate or anything. If you know going in it’s probably going to suck you can relax and have a good time. And the next one will be better.”

John stared at him in the mirror. “That’s one hell of a dating strategy.”

“Jennifer and I had three or four lousy dates till things finally clicked. You can’t take it to heart if it goes bad, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

McKay nodded, looking pleased. “So where’d you find her? Dating app? Personal ad?”

“Um…” 

There was a knock at the door and McKay was closer than John. He flung the door open and his eyes widened almost comically when he saw the guy standing out in the hall.

“Who are you?”

“This is Marc. Marc, this is my roommate, Rodney.”

“Nice to meet you,” Marc said, but he didn’t sound like he meant it. “You ready to go?”

“Just need to grab my jacket.”

John wasn’t gone long, and when he got back McKay was still standing there with his hand on the doorknob looking stunned. Hopefully John being gay wasn’t going to turn into an argument or a battle over the apartment. He was done pretending to be something he wasn’t just to make other people happy.

“Don’t wait up,” he said as he slipped past McKay and out into the hall.

“Don’t put out on the first date!” McKay called after him. “It sets a bad precedent!”

John flushed and just kept walking, not looking at Marc until they got to the elevator. The other man looked amused.

“Sound advice,” he said. “Also, I’m not that easy. If you were worried about your virtue.”

“Good to know,” John replied. He fought a grin as the doors slid closed. He had a feeling his first date was going to be pretty good.

*o*o*o*

“Too scrawny,” McKay said. His breath came out in white puffs.

“You’re awfully picky for someone who wasn’t planning on celebrating Christmas,” John pointed out. 

McKay gestured at him with one gloved hand. “I’ll remind you that you’re the one who insisted I come along and help decorate the apartment. I should’ve known better than to fall for your ‘first real Christmas out of the military’ spiel.”

John sighed and cast around for a tree that would pass his roommate’s stringent criteria. Asking McKay along had definitely been a misstep on his part, but damn it, he really wanted to celebrate this year. He wasn’t spending the holiday in the hot desert sand, or at his father’s house making stilted, awkward conversation, or with Nancy who had everything professionally decorated. This Christmas was all about him.

Well, that had been the idea anyway.

“No, not that one. Can’t you see it’s already half dead?”

“Maybe we should just get a fake one,” John sighed.

McKay made a face. “That’s just lazy. Okay, this one isn’t completely terrible.”

He bickered with the guy running the tree lot while John looked on, torn between amusement and exasperation. Ten minutes later the tree had been tightly baled in plastic netting, minus the usual add-on fee, and John and McKay were carrying it back to their apartment.

“This is probably a stupid question, seeing as how we now have a tree, but do you have any actual ornaments to put on it?” McKay asked. He was up front with the top of the tree. “Because I’m not shopping for those too.”

“I have some,” John assured him.

In fact, when John had gone home for Thanksgiving he’d liberated several boxes of Christmas decorations from the attic and shipped them back. Now they were in the basement storage room, and he was both excited and nervous about pulling them out. Most of them hadn’t seen the light of day since John’s mom had died.

“I’ll have to find the fishing line.”

John stared at the back of McKay’s head, which was covered by a brown knit cap that had bright green dancing moose on it.

“Why do you need fishing line?”

“To tie the tree to the wall, obviously,” McKay replied, his tone fairly dripping with condescension. 

“And we’d want to do that why?”

“Clearly you’ve never had a cat. If we don’t tie the tree to the wall, Barrymore will have it knocked over the second we get it set up. Also, I wouldn’t put anything breakable at the bottom of the tree, or else you’ll be cleaning up shards all month.”

Okay, now he was really having second thoughts about doing up the whole Christmas thing. He hadn’t factored McKay’s cranky cat into the equation.

“Oh, wait.” McKay stopped walking abruptly and the trunk of the tree dragged along John’s shoulder and the side of his neck before he realized and stopped too.

“Ow! What are you doing?” John pressed a hand to his neck, wincing.

McKay wrangled the tree off John’s shoulder and propped it up against the side of the Happy Wonton. “Curry chicken. I have a sudden craving. You want anything?”

“Yeah. I want to get this tree home. Can’t you just call when we get there?”

“Don’t be stupid. We’re right here. Ten minutes. Fifteen, tops.”

McKay went through the door, bell jangling, leaving John out on the sidewalk to guard the tree. He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets.

It was cold, really cold, so he stood over the nearby subway grate. The smell wasn’t great but the air was a little warmer. The storefronts around him were already dressed up with blinking Christmas lights and festive wreaths and Santas, and street corner bell-ringing was in full swing. Despite everything John couldn’t help his lips quirking up in a grin. For better or worse, it was _his_ Christmas – McKay and cat and all – and he was going to make the best of it.

“I got you beef lo mein,” McKay said when he finally emerged from the restaurant. “You like that, right? Let’s go. I’m starving.”

He looped the bag of food around his wrist and got the tree back into carry position. John just shook his head and followed McKay back home.

*o*o*o*

“…are you saying?”

John was trying not to listen, he really was. But McKay was out on the terrace and he’d left the door open just a crack, and he wasn’t making any effort to be quiet. John supposed he could go to his room, but he’d wanted to sit on the sofa and watch the lights blink on the Christmas tree. Maybe he should put on some Christmas music.

“But what about Christmas Eve brunch? We always…oh.”

McKay was talking to his wife. The poor guy was living under the assumption that she was going to have a change of heart and come running back to him. Was that how Nancy had felt? She’d known there was something wrong in their marriage, something wrong with _John_ , but when he’d tried to explain that he didn’t find women sexually appealing she’d insisted he was joking.

It had been a difficult divorce, and it sounded like McKay’s marriage was heading in the same direction. From what John could tell they had very little in common, and he wasn’t quite sure how they’d ended up together in the first place. Four disastrous dates, McKay had said? Seemed like a sign from the universe.

“No, of course not. Yes, it would be foolish to buy each other gifts this year. I agree completely.”

John looked at the wrapped packages under the tree. No fewer than four of them were for McKay’s wife. There was one for Barrymore, too. Who bought presents for a cat? McKay seemed more broken up about his marriage than his wife did. Then again, John had seen their wedding photo. She was really young, probably thought she had plenty of time to find someone new. A medical doctor with her looks? She’d be beating them off with a stick.

“That’s unfair!”

John levered himself off the sofa and selected a holiday playlist off his MP3 player. When he turned around Barrymore was curled up in his spot. They eyed each other for a long moment before John admitted defeat and sat next to him.

_Silver bells, silver bells_   
_It's Christmas time in the city_   
_Ring-a-ling, (ring-a-ling) hear them ring (ting-a-ling)_   
_Soon it will be Christmas day_

That was better. John felt bad for McKay, who probably wouldn’t be having a very good holiday this year. He’d complained earlier that he’d have to go visit his sister in Toronto, which clearly wasn’t something he wanted to do. John would be glad not to have him moping around the apartment. He was having some of his new friends over for his first dinner party, which he’d been planning for weeks.

“Unbelievable.” McKay came in from the porch and dropped down on the other side of the couch, mindful of Barrymore who gave a little growl. McKay was wearing an orange fleece pullover but his nose and ears were red from the cold. “Plans! She has all these plans, and it’s like she doesn’t have a single twinge of regret for not spending Christmas with me.”

“Sorry to hear that,” John replied.

“Was it like that with you and your wife? Did you just cut off all contact?”

John really didn’t want to talk about his own failed marriage. “That’s how most people do it, McKay.”

“But…didn’t you want to make it work?”

“I’m gay. There was no making that work.” 

“Oh. Right.” McKay propped his feet up on the coffee table. There was a hole in one sock. “It’s just…we had all these things we did together. It won’t feel like Christmas this year.”

No, John thought to himself. It’ll be better.

_Someday soon we all will be together_   
_If the fates allow_   
_Until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow_   
_So have yourself a merry little Christmas now_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Playlist:**
> 
> [ Silver Bells by Bing Crosby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CySFq4jxO3o)
> 
> [ Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas by Judy Garland](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nH9RyySpkU8)


	3. January

**January**

“’You purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life? Do your duty toward me, and I will do mine toward you and the rest of mankind. If you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and you at peace, but if you refuse I will glut the maw of death, until it be satiated with the blood of your remaining friends.’”

Rodney stood downstage, half in shadow. He wore ragged clothing, and Miko had done amazing make-up for him; he looked like the monster whose monologue he was delivering.

“’Have I not suffered enough that you seek to increase my misery? Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself. My height is superior to thine, my joints more supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee.’”

The house lights were down, so he could tell there were people in the audience but he couldn’t see them. For such a large group of students they were amazingly quiet, though Rodney could pick out the glow of a cell phone here and there. Hopefully they were filming him and not just chatting with each other.

He’d been prepping for this showcase for months, wanting to get it just right. A lot of the other theater groups had chosen Shakespeare monologues, presumably because the kids would be more familiar with them, but Rodney’s group had gone in a different direction. _Frankenstein_ seemed like a good fit for students in various stages of puberty who were trying to find their place in the world.

Rodney had found more emotion for the piece than he’d initially thought he could tap into. He supposed he had Jennifer to thank for that, because her constant rebuffs of his attempts to spend time with her were making him angry.

“’I will keep no terms with my enemies. I am miserable and they shall share my wretchedness. Yet it is in your power to recompense me, and deliver them from an evil which it only remains for you to make so great that not only you and your family, but thousands of others, shall be swallowed up in the whirlwinds of its rage.’”

Jeannie’s advice had been to work harder to win Jennifer back, because the chances of him hooking up with someone that good a second time were slim to none. They’d had a big fight about it, which ended with him packing his things and going back to the states a day early. Another holiday for the record books.

“’I am alone and miserable. Man will not associate with me, but one as deformed and horrible as myself would not deny herself to me. My companion must be of the same species and have the same defects. A female. This being you must create.’”

The lights came up and the students applauded. Rodney gave a little bow, then ducked out stage left.

“That gave me actual chills,” Laura said. “Have you ever done the whole play? Maybe we should put that on the list.”

“I saw a musical version years ago. It was terrible.”

“Mr. McKay?” Principal Smythe, who’d organized the theater showcase, hovered nearby like an anxious stork; she was incredibly tall and thin. “Could you please join the others in the atrium?”

“Right. The Q&A.” 

Laura trailed after him as he left the theater. Rodney had insisted on being the final performer so his piece would be the one that stuck with the kids the longest. The atrium was packed with students in a variety of uniforms because St. Margaret’s, who was hosting, had invited other schools.

Rodney fielded so many questions about his makeup that he wished Miko was on hand to answer them properly; she was painfully shy and had begged off attending. There were also plenty of questions about the Atlantis Theater Group. ATG had made a niche for itself by putting on alternative productions of popular plays, which a lot of the students seemed excited about. Last year they’d done a lesbian version of _Arsenic and Old Lace_.

“Nice work up there.” 

Rodney looked up…and up…to see Sheppard’s big friend with the dreadlocks, the one who’d helped him move in. What was his name? Robert? Ronald? He was wearing the Hammond Prep blazer and had similarly-attired students clustered around him. Rodney hadn’t realized they worked together.

“Oh. Uh, thanks.” Rodney looked around the room but didn’t see any spiky hair. “Sheppard here too?”

“Just the English classes.”

Right. John taught Math. His friend certainly didn’t look like any English teacher Rodney’d had in school.

“How did you get your face to look so uneven?” one of the students asked.

Rodney explained about the prosthetics and how Miko also used the makeup to create illusions of bone structure and shape. Next time he was going to insist she stay, since most of the questions were about his appearance. And not in the more flattering way, like the gaggle of teenage girls clustered around the guy from the Harris Theater who’d done a soliloquy from _Macbeth_.

“Mr. McKay?” A girl who looked too young to be in high school, and was dwarfed by her school blazer, raised her hand. “Do you think the pursuit of knowledge is dangerous? It seems like that’s what Mary Shelley was trying to say, because Victor Frankenstein lost everything by trying to out-do science.”

Finally, an intelligent question! Rodney saw the glint of challenge in those big brown eyes and nodded. “What’s your name?”

“Kinsi.”

“Mary Shelley was wrong, wrong, wrong, Kinsi. And I’ll tell you why.” He looked around for a chair and sighed when he didn’t see one. “I don’t suppose you’re on the debate team at your school.”

“Captain, actually.”

It was all Rodney could do not to rub his hands together. “Excellent.”

*o*o*o*

“Chad?”

“Pleasure,” the skinny blonde guy on the couch said in response, never looking away from the TV. He and Sheppard were playing a video game, one of those brainless racing things. Rodney preferred open-world RPGs.

“Friend from work?” Rodney asked.

Sheppard smirked. “Nope.”

Oh. Another boyfriend. Rodney’s housemate had been doing an awful lot of dating in the last few weeks. Their front door might as well have one of those ‘take a number’ dispensers on it. The new one was wearing eyeliner. No good ever came from dating a guy named Chad, Rodney was pretty sure of that.

“Sheppard. Can I have a word?”

“Sure. Have them all.”

“Yes, you’re very funny. I’m sure Chad is overwhelmed. Kitchen please.”

Rodney walked away, confident that Sheppard would follow. Which he did, after heaving a big, put-upon sigh and muttering something to his flavor of the week.

“This better be good, McKay. I was winning.”

“Fine. I’ll get right to the point.” Rodney leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “I think you’re being reckless.”

Sheppard immediately tensed up. “About what?”

“About all this dating!” Rodney gestured expansively. “There are a lot of unscrupulous gay men in the city, Sheppard. I get that you’re new to the scene and all, but you need to make sure you’re not being taken advantage of.”

Sheppard seemed to find that amusing for some reason. “Aww, I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t! It’s just…Chad? No great romance ever involved a Chad.”

Sheppard relaxed into one of his liquid leans against the doorframe. “Not looking for romance.”

“Everyone’s looking for romance,” Rodney said dismissively. “I can find a much better guy for you than the pretty boy sitting in my living room.”

“I don’t need you playing yenta, McKay.”

“Then I hope Hammond Prep has good health insurance for when you get those STDs.”

Sheppard rolled his eyes. “You had your word. I’m getting back to my game.”

Rodney stayed in the kitchen, glowering at the spot where Sheppard had been standing. He didn’t know why he cared about the man’s love life; it was none of his damn business. But a guy fresh out of the military and exploring his sexuality for the first time could be a recipe for disaster. Rodney felt compelled to help.

Who did he know who was gay and available and not a scumbag?

*o*o*o*

“You’re still gay, right?”

“Good morning to you, too, Rodney.”

Rodney made a hurry up motion with his hand. “Yes, good morning. Lovely weather. Blah blah blah. Still gay, still single?”

Cam cocked an eyebrow at him and took a long, slow sip of his coffee before responding. “You’re not my type.”

“I’m not asking for me, obviously.” Rodney leaned forward, elbows on the small café table. Cam didn’t work for AGT directly, but his network was one of their sponsors and he attended all the shareholder meetings and productions. 

“Are you trying to set me up?” Cam asked incredulously. 

“No. I’m trying to set up my roommate. He’s been dating some real dregs and I thought you two might hit it off.”

“So why don’t you date him?”

Rodney waved his hand in Cam’s face, wedding ring prominently displayed. “Married.”

“Your roommate’s a math teacher, right?”

Cam didn’t sound convinced. Rodney pulled out his cell phone and pulled up the picture he’d surreptitiously taken of Sheppard grading papers. “It’s not like I want you to date Quasimodo. Sheppard’s attractive, he’s smart, and he was in the military like you.”

He handed the phone to Cam, who instantly looked interested. Well, who wouldn’t be? Despite a few flaws – bizarre donkey laugh and terrible taste in music among them – Sheppard seemed like a pretty decent guy. Sometimes when Sheppard was in the shower Rodney imagined how he looked naked and wet and…

“So what’s the catch? What’s wrong with him?” Cam asked, sliding Rodney’s phone back across the table. 

Rodney flushed. “There’s nothing wrong with him. In my opinion, which is based on objective observation as –”

Cam rolled his eyes and took another long drink of coffee.

“ – his roommate, I think Sheppard spent a lot of years in the closet and now he’s finally getting in touch with things, so to speak, and I don’t want some jerk taking advantage of him.” Rodney waited expectantly for Cam to say something, but the other man just stared at him as if he had something growing out of the top of his head. “His last date was a guy named Chad. Do you really want to subject him to that?”

“Okay,” Cam said finally. “Set something up.”

Rodney sagged in relief, his mind already full of ideas for the perfect first date.

“One date, Rodney. I’m not promising anything beyond that.”

“You won’t be sorry,” Rodney assured him.

*o*o*o*

“You are turning into stalker,” Radek hissed. “And dragging me with you! I do not approve.”

“Your protest has been noted about five times. Shut up, we’re here.” Rodney bypassed the hostess with a wave of his hand. He’d taken the liberty of requesting a specific table when he made the reservations for Cam and Sheppard, one he could easily see from the restaurant’s bar. 

“You are buying my drinks.” Radek’s glower was somehow more impressive when coupled with the Van Dyke Rodney had glued to his face. He was ATG’s stage engineer, responsible for all the set pieces in addition to supervising the light and sound crews. And a very reluctant co-conspirator.

Rodney himself was sporting a blonde wig and a massive handlebar moustache.

“Fine. Just none of the top shelf stuff.”

Cam and Sheppard were already seated and chatting over appetizers. It looked like it was going well. It had taken some convincing to get Sheppard to agree to the date – Rodney wasn’t looking forward to next month’s credit card statement, since he was footing the bill for dinner – but he seemed to be having a good time.

“I think he likes Cam. Do you think he likes Cam?”

“I think you are ridiculous,” Radek said. But he dutifully turned and looked. “They are having fun. We can go now?”

“I knew that downhome Southern charm thing would work on Sheppard,” Rodney said smugly. “Everything Cam says sounds sincere.”

“Perhaps they will invite you for threesome.”

“Oh, very…Are you drinking a Cosmo?”

Radek sipped from his martini glass. “A very good one.”

“Men don’t drink Cosmos.”

“This man does.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. He ordered an espresso martini. He needed to stay focused and alert.

Four martinis later Rodney was pleasantly buzzed and wide awake. Radek was on his sixth Cosmo, and Cam and Sheppard had just ordered dessert. They were certainly taking their time. The date was obviously going well but Rodney couldn’t make himself leave. He supposed he envied Sheppard, the way he was out there meeting people, maybe someone he could fall in love with. Rodney remembered that feeling. It was a good feeling.

“We should go now,” Radek said. He tugged on Rodney’s arm. “Up and out, yes?”

“I’ll say when –” Rodney started to snap, but then he saw how wide Radek’s eyes were and the panic etched on his face. “What? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He pulled out his phone to see if there was a message about someone having been in an accident or something, and he caught an unexpected reflection on his screen. He swiveled so fast on his stool he almost fell off of it.

“Don’t,” Radek said, but Rodney shrugged him off.

He stalked up to the table near the door, the one he’d had his back to all night. The one with the empty dessert dish that had two forks on it, and a bottle of wine, and _his wife_.

“What are you doing here?” 

Jennifer blinked up at him in surprise, and then narrowed her eyes. “Rodney? What are you wearing?”

“Are you on a _date_?” He hated how his voice sounded when he said that. He was supposed to be angry.

Jennifer was sitting across from some asshole in a suit, all perfectly groomed with chiseled features like someone from the cover of a torrid romance novel. And Jennifer…she was wearing a little black dress Rodney had never seen before, and the diamond necklace he’d given her as an apology for forgetting their second anniversary. She wasn’t wearing her wedding ring.

“Did you follow us here?” Jennifer was already on her feet, angry and glowering.

“We did not know you would be here,” Radek interjected. 

“We should go,” the guy in the suit said. He stood as well, and pulled a money clip out of his pocket. He casually peeled a hundred off the top and tossed it on the table. “Come on, Jenn.”

“She’s married!” Rodney shouted, getting right up in the guy’s face. “To me!”

He normally wasn’t a physically confrontational person but he really wanted to punch that guy’s face in. Jennifer was supposed to be realizing how much she missed Rodney and wanted him to come back home. But how could she do that when she was out on a date with some rich playboy? Was that the kind of man she wanted? All polish and no substance?

The guy pushed him. “Back off, pal.”

“Rodney, stop it,” Jennifer demanded. “You’re making a scene.”

“And you’re committing adultery!” Rodney snapped back without even looking at her.

He pulled back his arm, ready to let his fist fly. He wanted to at least crack one of the guy’s perfect teeth. But then Sheppard was there pulling him back and Cam was trying to calm everyone down and Radek was ordering another Cosmo.

“I’m fine!” Rodney pulled out of Sheppard’s hold and stalked out of the restaurant into the cold night air. He pulled off the wig and threw it in the nearest trash bin.

“Hey. McKay.” Sheppard tossed him the coat he’d hung up by the bar. “You okay?”

“Can you believe her? On a date! This was just supposed to be temporary and she’s already looking for a replacement.”

Rodney felt perilously close to tears, which would be the perfect capper to his evening. What was one more humiliation?

“That sucks,” Sheppard said agreeably. He stood there in his overcoat, hands in his pockets, hair sticking up like it always did, and Rodney hated him just a little. 

It was easy for men like Sheppard, who had the handsome face and trim build and easy charm. He’d had no trouble finding dates once he started putting himself out there. He was the kind of guy people wanted to be with. Rodney knew the same didn’t hold true for him. He was irritable and demanding and thoughtless. It was a wonder he’d managed to snag Jennifer in the first place. What made him think he could keep her?

All the anger abruptly drained out of Rodney and he just felt tired. “You should get back to your date.”

“I already told Cam I’m taking you home. And I’m going to let you off the hook about the cheesy disguise and the invasion of privacy until you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

Rodney flushed. “Radek –”

“Cam will make sure he gets home in one piece.”

Sheppard flagged down a cab and stuffed Rodney into it, sliding in next to him and sitting closer than was probably necessary. Once they were moving he carefully peeled Rodney’s moustache off.

“You look much better without it,” he said.

Rodney just dropped his head back against the seat. He wished Jennifer thought so.


	4. February

**February**

“Full house, queens over nines.”

“You asshole,” Amelia said without any real heat. “I needed those queens!”

John just shrugged and dragged his chips across the felt tabletop. 

“I don’t know why I keep coming to this stupid game,” Aiden said with a sigh. “I never win anything.”

Amelia patted him on the arm. “The cards’ll turn in your favor one of these days, buddy.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Evan, who’d zipped into the kitchen once the hand was over, returned with a platter of miniature steak sandwiches. “You come for the food.”

Aiden perked up. “You’re right. Totally worth losing my shirt every week.”

“You’re a gym teacher,” Ronon said. “You don’t need a shirt.”

“Oh, yeah?” Amelia lifted the bottom of Aiden’s t-shirt. “You hiding a six pack under here?”

Aiden batted her hand away. “Back off, woman!”

“Well, I have to get my vicarious thrills somewhere.” Amelia leaned forward on her elbows. “John. How’re things going with Cam?”

John watched the cards as Ronon dealt. He really didn’t want to talk about himself. “Going fine.”

“I’m sensing a lack of enthusiasm,” Evan said.

Amelia scooped up her cards and made a face when she looked at them. “Great deal, Ronon. Thanks so much.”

Everyone anted up, chips clicking together in the middle of the table. John wondered if he had a chance at a straight, or if he should hold on to the two tens.

“Come on. You’ve been dating this guy for a few weeks now. Seems pretty steady.” Amelia moved her cards around, brow furrowed. 

John shrugged. “Cam’s a great guy.”

“But?”

He didn’t want to say it because it sounded ridiculous. Cam really was great. He and John had shared military experience, and a lot of other things, in common. The guy was funny, good-looking, thoughtful, and good in bed. Really good.

“No spark,” Ronon said. “Right?”

John looked over at him in surprise. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“I’m a poet. I can read the signs.”

Amelia slapped three cards face down on the table. “So what if there’s no spark? Why does there have to be? You said yourself he’s a great guy. You wouldn’t still be dating him if you weren’t having fun and were at least moderately compatible in the bedroom. Or so I assume. Why can’t that be enough?”

“Says Sparky the Spinster,” Evan teased. Amelia flipped him off.

“Seriously, though. Do you know how many assholes are out there? I say hang on to this one if he treats you good.”

“I don’t know,” Aiden said. “Shouldn’t there be some romance involved? I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with a girl because she's nice and moderately good in the bedroom. I want passion!”

Amelia shook her head. “Passion fades. You can’t maintain that over the life of a relationship. Better to be with someone you can get along with who isn’t a total dick.”

“There’s room for both,” Ronon said. “How many, John?”

John tossed away two cards and was dealt a three and a queen. There went his straight.

“I’m with Ronon.” Evan upped the ante and tossed more chips in the pot. “There can be a balance between someone you can be with day-to-day and someone who just ignites you like a firecracker.”

“Ugh! Save me from these hopeless romantics! I fold.” Amelia dropped her cards and reached for another steak sandwich. “In this city you’re lucky to find someone nice. Seems selfish to try for more.”

John sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just overthinking it.”

Ali came through the front door, slamming it behind her and throwing her backpack on the floor. “People suck.”

“Mrs. Winston?” Evan asked.

“I had to ride all the way up in the elevator with her, and all she could talk about was why I don’t have a boyfriend for Valentine’s Day.” She draped herself over her father’s shoulders. “It’s such a stupid, exclusionary holiday. Like your life is over if you don’t have a boyfriend or a girlfriend.”

“I always wear black on V-day,” Amelia said. She handed Ali one of the tiny sandwiches. “Don’t need a boyfriend to buy myself lots of chocolate.”

Evan pressed a kiss to the side of Ali’s head. “You don’t need outside validation to know what a worthwhile person you are.”

“I know. I guess I was kinda hoping Scott Helmer was going to ask me to the dance.”

“His loss,” Ronon said. “Guys your age are too immature.”

“Please don’t encourage my daughter to date older men.” Evan raised again and John called. Evan took the pot with four of a kind.

“Just sayin’.”

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Ali abandoned her father and rummaged through her backpack. She pulled out an envelope and handed it to John.

“Can you please give this to Mr. McKay? I know we’re supposed to mail it in, but I was kinda hoping you could talk me up a little?”

John had passed along a flyer to Ali at one of the previous month’s poker games. McKay’s theater group was doing a call for short, one-act plays written by trans kids about the trans experience. If Ali’s got picked, she’d get to direct and star in it, if she wanted, and be part of a two week production.

“Of course I will,” John promised. 

Evan got up from the table, mostly empty platter of sandwiches in his hand. “Ali can sit in for me on the next hand. I have to put the finishing touches on dessert.”

“You sure you want to trust all your winnings to a punk kid, Barney?” Amelia asked, winking at Ali.

“I can beat the likes of you any day, see?” Ali replied in a 1920s gangster voice. She grabbed a pretzel rod and held it like a cigar. “Whose deal?”

*o*o*o*

“McKay’s missing,” John said in a rush as soon as Evan answered the phone.

_John? What’s going on?_

John took a deep breath. He knew he was over-reacting but he couldn’t seem to help himself. “I didn’t see him at all yesterday, and then Cam and I went out, and when I got home this morning I could tell he hadn’t been here. Barrymore hadn’t been fed, and the coffee pot hadn’t been on.”

_First of all, you need to calm down. Okay? Secondly, maybe he spent the night out too._

“No, see, that’s just it. When I checked his room there were divorce papers on his bed. She served him on Valentine’s Day, Evan. You know what that could do to a person as high-strung as McKay?”

_You think he’s suicidal?_

“I don’t know!” John ran a hand through his hair. “He always talks about getting back with her. You should’ve seen his face when he saw she was on a date.”

_Okay. Give me about ten minutes and I’ll come over._

“Thanks.”

John ended the call and then checked to see if he had any messages from McKay. None. He sent another text, and left another voicemail. He’d tried calling the theater, but no-one was picking up there. John had been living with McKay for over three months but he had no idea where the man would’ve gone, especially in the frame of mind he must be in.

Barrymore hissed at John from his spot on the couch, as if it was his fault McKay was gone.

Would McKay really do something stupid? Would he be that despondent over his impending divorce? The man had disguised himself to stalk Cam and John on their first date, so clearly he had some mental issues.

Someone pounded on the door. John opened it expecting Evan but got a face full of Laura instead.

“Is he sick? He better be sick. Two missed rehearsals!” She sailed past John, coat swirling around her knees. “Rodney! What the hell?”

“He’s not here,” John said. His anxiety ramped up. McKay missed rehearsal?

Laura glared at him, as if he was responsible. “Then where is he?”

In response, John handed her the divorce papers.

“That bitch. You know, I never liked her.” Laura tossed the papers back on the coffee table. “She never appreciated Rodney. Always trying to change him, make him nicer. Idiot. Well, come on.”

“You know where he is?”

“I know a couple places to check. This happened after she threw him out, too.”

Laura pulled the door open and Evan was on the other side, arm raised to knock. They stared at each other for a minute, and then Laura seemed to realize that Evan was wearing his detective badge around his neck.

“You called the cops?”

“This is my friend Evan. Evan, Laura. She thinks she knows where McKay might be.”

“Oh, well…uh…I’ll just tag along. In case you run into any trouble.”

John looked at the two of them and rolled his eyes. There may as well have been little cupids with heart-shaped arrows fluttering over their heads. Meanwhile, McKay might be standing on a bridge contemplating throwing himself into the river. There was no time for romance. 

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling his coat out of the closet.

The first place Laura took them was two subway stops from the apartment, a little hole-in-the-wall soda fountain called Murray’s. There were several arcade games squashed together in the rear of the place, which wasn’t very big to start with.

“Si, Señor McKay was here yesterday.” The man behind the Formica counter gestured with the ice cream scoop he held in his hand, getting drops of vanilla ice cream everywhere. “Six root beer floats, and he empties Skee Ball of tickets. He took big monkey.”

“McKay plays Skee Ball?” John wandered to the back of the shop. There were only three gaming machines that spit out tickets, and the trade-in offerings were pretty dismal.

“He’s really good at it,” Laura said. She accepted the root beer float in the to-go cup and offered Evan a sip. “Gets the center hole almost every time.”

“When did he leave?” John asked.

“Closing, at seven.”

“Thanks, Javier!” Laura called out as they headed back to the sidewalk. “Say what you want, but that man knows how to make a float.”

“So where would he go next?” John asked, but Evan was already moving.

“Found a clue,” he called over his shoulder.

The clue turned out to be a huge stuffed monkey in an unlikely shade of purple, propped up against the side of a bodega one block down. Huddled next to it was a woman dressed in several bulky layers, dirt-streaked face partially hidden by a knit cap pulled low over her forehead. Propped on the monkey’s lap was small cardboard box that had some loose change in the bottom and a sign that said _monkee bizniss_.

Evan squatted down to get on eye level with her. “Ma’am? Can I ask where you got this monkey?”

She shook her head and wouldn’t look him in the eye. John wondered if McKay had been mugged, or worse. Evan pulled out a twenty dollar bill and dropped it in the box.

“I’m looking for someone. I’m worried he might be in trouble.”

The woman looked in the box, and then down at the sidewalk. “Gave it t’me. For the baby.”

John exchanged a horrified look with Laura. She had a baby? Out there in the cold?

Evan nodded. “That sure sounds nice of him. Can I see your baby? I love babies.”

The woman peeled back one of her layers and for a second John forgot to breathe because he saw sightless, staring eyes. When he realized it was a doll, and not an actual person, he felt light-headed. 

“That’s a beautiful baby.”

Laura slipped into the bodega while Evan admired the doll.

“Gives me money sometimes. Or food. He’s nice.”

John pulled out his wallet and added more money to the box. He wouldn’t have thought McKay would give a second glance to any of the homeless encamped in the city, but then he obviously didn’t know the man well at all, did he?

The woman covered the doll and pointed down the street when Evan asked where McKay had gone after giving her the monkey. Laura re-appeared with a couple of sandwiches and a tall cup of hot chocolate, which she gave to the homeless woman.

“You’re nice too,” she said, still not looking at any of them.

“Thank you very much for your help, ma’am.” Evan stood back up, looking solemn.

“Should we take her to a shelter or something?” John asked. It seemed criminal to just leave her out on the frozen sidewalk.

“She won’t go,” Evan replied, and he sounded sad. “Sometimes the shelters are worse than being on the streets. I used to walk a beat, I know what it’s like for them.”

“Can we take you and your baby to a shelter?” Laura asked, bending down. “It’s awfully cold.”

The homeless woman hunched in on herself, the effect not unlike a turtle pulling into its shell. She vigorously shook her head. “No!”

They headed on down the street, subdued. John wondered how often McKay came to that part of town, and if there were other people he helped out or just that one woman.

“He probably camped out at the all-night theater,” Laura said. “Look. They’re having a Hitchcock movie marathon.” 

They checked inside, but McKay wasn’t there and no-one remembered for sure if he had been; the night staff had already gone home. They hopped back on the subway and rode it to Fullwood Station. Laura made inquiries at the Shakespeare Winter Theater, where they discovered McKay had been escorted out after heckling the afternoon production of _Merchant of Venice_.

“He was pretty intoxicated,” the security guard said. “He was heckling the characters, not the actors. It was actually kinda funny, but he was being disruptive.”

“Drunk and heckling. There’s only one place he could be.”

They finally ran McKay to ground in a dimly lit gentleman’s club. Evan had to flash his badge before they’d let Laura through the door. John had been expecting strippers, but it was just a bar with an unexpectedly expansive karaoke setup.

_All by myself_   
_Don’t want to be all by myself anymore_   
_All by myself_   
_Don’t want to live all by myself anymore_

“Wow,” was all John could say. His roommate was on stage, swaying and obviously three sheets to the wind, singing earnestly – but poorly – into the microphone. None of the life-threatening scenarios John had imagined had come to pass and he was almost shaky with relief.

Evan was already chatting up the bartender. “How long has he been here?”

“Too long. He’s bumming everyone out.”

While they were talking McKay started a new song.

_In a little while from now_   
_If I'm not feeling any less sour_   
_I promise myself to treat myself_   
_And visit a nearby tower_   
_And climbing to the top_   
_Will throw myself off_   
_In an effort to_   
_Make it clear to whoever_   
_Wants to know what it's like when you're shattered_

“I’ve got this,” Laura said.

She marched up on the stage and pulled the microphone out of McKay’s hand. They proceeded to have a heated argument while the background music still played, which involved a lot of arm waving on McKay’s part and face pulling on Laura’s.

“So, um. She’s cute.” Evan leaned back against the bar, striving for casual and mostly failing. “Single?”

“I honestly have no idea,” John said. “I’ve never seen her with anyone, for whatever that’s worth.”

Somehow the fight on stage turned into a duet, McKay and Laura singing into the microphone together.

_Take me for what I am_   
_Who I was meant to be_   
_And if you give a damn_   
_Take me baby_   
_Or leave me_

“Laura has some pipes on her,” Evan said appreciatively. “Can’t say the same for McKay.”

John just nodded. McKay was a drunk, emotional mess, and he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. And John was starting to feel some messy emotions himself. Not good. Very not good.

“I need a drink.”

*o*o*o*

“How the hell did you do that?”

“Superior genes,” John replied with a smirk. He moved the game controller in the direction he wanted the puddlejumper to move. The Hive was bearing down on them and he was doing his level best to avoid the Darts that were attacking in an effort to clear the field.

“Too much free time, is what you mean,” Cam said. He’d picked an F-302 to fly in the dogfight which, admittedly, was sleeker and had better maneuverability. And also some kick-ass weapons.

They were sitting on Cam’s bed, which was still rumpled from the vigorous sex they’d had earlier. Their clothes were scattered on the floor.

John liked hanging out with Cam. They had fun, and the guy was really easy to talk to. He was definitely the best guy John had dated since he’d put himself out on the gay market. Why the hell did he need more?

“You’re thinking too hard,” Cam said. He knocked John with his shoulder.

“Trying not to.” John flew his ‘jumper along the underside of the Hive, shield absorbing a direct hit from the Dart behind him. “On your seven!”

“I see it.” The F-302 banked right, then looped up and over. Cam took out the Dart and then zoomed in to give John some backup.

“Nice.” John saw an opening and he went for it, piloting the ‘jumper into the Hive via the same bay the Darts were exiting from. He dropped his nuclear payload and then had to blast his way back out again. “Go, go, go!”

The Hive went up in a ball of flame, taking out most of the Darts with it. Cam mopped up the rest, and they won the level. They high-fived, and Cam pulled John in for a kiss.

“You know it doesn’t have to be more than this, right?” Cam murmured. “This right here is good.”

It was the perfect opening. John could admit to Cam that, while he really liked him, they just didn’t have that spark. He didn’t see them having a long-term romantic relationship, especially since John was starting to have very inconvenient thoughts about his roommate. It wasn’t fair to either of them if he wasn't fully invested.

He chickened out.

“Yeah. We're good.”

John tossed the game controller aside and pulled Cam back down on the bed.

*o*o*o*

"Oh my gosh, really?"

Ali was bouncing in her seat, her excitement pulling John out of a long and largely unproductive rumination about the state of his life in general, and his roommate in particular.

With Evan's approval, John had picked Ali up after school because McKay wanted to meet with her personally about her play submission. They were occupying a very small table in a very crowded coffee shop, and every time McKay gestured he threatened to knock their cups over.

"Isn't that amazing, John?" Ali was all smiles, and yeah, she had her dad's dimples.

"It sure is," John agreed, even though he hadn't been paying attention. He hazarded a guess that McKay had offered Ali a spot in the production.

"You'll have to talk to your father, of course," McKay said. He'd had so many espressos he was vibrating. "And you'll have to fill out the application. The deadline for the internship is the end of April."

Wait. Internship? What internship?

"Dad'll say yes, I know he will. Thank you so much, Mr. McKay!"

"You want to thank me? Don't show up late." McKay knocked back his last espresso and stood up. "I have to get back to rehearsals."

He very studiously didn't look at John. Things had been awkward between them since Valentine's Day and John wasn't sure how to fix it. He got that McKay was embarrassed, doubly so for having Evan involved, but he'd had a legitimate reason for going off the rails. No-one thought any less of him.

"I'll be right back," John told Ali, and trailed McKay to the door. "Hey. Thanks for taking a chance on Ali."

McKay looked over John's shoulder. "Her piece is really extraordinary. I don't know what kind of actress she is, but she could have a future as a playwright or a director."

"She's a good kid."

"So she seems. Was there something else you needed?" McKay fidgeted and slid a little closer to the door.

"Actually, I was thinking we could do something tonight. Roommate stuff."

McKay finally looked at him, his expression withering.

"Roommate stuff? I'm not even going to ask what that is. I don't need you to babysit me, Sheppard." He crossed his arms over his chest. He had really broad shoulders, which was not something John wanted to be thinking about. "Besides, don't you have a date with Cam tonight?"

Shit. Cam. John had forgotten. "Oh, right. Maybe some other time?"

"Busy," was McKay's snappish reply. And then he was gone, out the door and down the sidewalk.

John sighed and went back to the table. Ali gave him a pitying look.

"You like him, huh?"

"He's just my roommate." Despite all of John's promises, he was still lying to himself.

"Right. Except I'm pretty sure that's the same way I look at Scott." Ali sipped her cappuccino. "He's getting divorced, right? You should go for it."

"It's not that easy," John said. "A divorce is a big deal, especially for that guy. He may never get over it."

Ali made a non-committal noise. "Sounds like a rationalization to me."

John threw a sugar packet at her. "Stop psycho-analyzing me, twerp. Don't you have homework to do?"

Ali rolled her eyes. "Classic deflection. I'm gonna talk to my therapist about you. See if she has any advice."

"You do that. Let's go."

John didn't voice the other big problem about his growing appreciation of McKay, and that was the fact that John was pretty sure his roommate was straight. He knew better than anyone that being married to a woman didn't necessarily mean anything, but John had never seen any indication that McKay was attracted to men. No sense wishing for something he couldn't have.

"Since you're technically teen-sitting me tonight, can we order in? I really want some Thai food."

"As long as my love life is off the table we can get anything you want."

"Boy, you're easy," Ali said with a grin. "Can we get beer, too?"

"Don't push your luck, kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Playlist:**
> 
> [ All By Myself by Eric Carmen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzoazPPC7b8)
> 
> [Alone Again (Naturally) by Gilbert O’Sullivan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D_P-v1BVQn8)
> 
> [ Take Me or Leave Me by Idina Menzel (Rent)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFOvOQ8xLv4)


	5. March

**March**

"I'm beginning to wonder if you're even capable of having a good time."

"Why? Because I wear my gloves in winter?" Rodney started unbuttoning his shirt.

"No. It's because there isn't the least bit of adventure in you. You know what you are, Paul? You're a watcher. You're a watcher." Daniel punctuated his words with a jabbing finger, catching Rodney right on the clavicle.

"Ow! Stop that!" Rodney broke character and rubbed at what was probably going to be a bruise. "What's with the finger? That wasn't in any of the blocking we did yesterday."

"What's the problem, Rodney?" Richard called from the front row. He'd been taking notes while he watched them act out the scene, ever-present clipboard clutched in one hand.

"He's jabbing me. His character isn't supposed to be physically abusive."

“I’m improvising,” Daniel said. He pushed his glasses up his nose. 

Rodney scowled. “This isn’t Second City. And I’m not going to have you poking me like that every night and twice on Sundays.”

Daniel appealed to Richard. “My character is feeling very emotional right now, Richard. He wants to lash out.”

There were days when Rodney really hated working in the theater. Didn’t anyone take proper classes anymore?

“Listen up, Jackson, I’m going to teach you how to act.”

“Here we go!” Laura cackled from backstage. 

“I really don’t –” Daniel started to say. 

“I know you don’t. That’s why I’m teaching you.” Rodney reversed their positions so he could use the blocking for Daniel’s character, Corey. “You don’t need to use a physical jab when a verbal one will do. Like this: You know what you are, Paul? You're a _watcher_. You're a _watcher_.”

Rodney kept his hands up the whole time, ostentatiously not poking Daniel.

“If you give the right words the right emphasis, it delivers the same impact. Also, if you poke me again I’m going to break your finger.”

“No need to descend into violence.” Richard tapped a pen against the clipboard, frowning. He had a way of making the entire cast and crew feel like scolded children sometimes. “Let’s take five, everyone.”

Daniel wandered offstage and Rodney shook his head. He was a nice enough guy, for someone who acted like an egghead but had the body of Hugh Jackman during the height of the Wolverine years. Costuming was going to have trouble toning down the muscles and playing up the flighty earnestness. 

He sat on the edge of the stage and pulled out his phone to check his messages. Laura sat next to him. She’d been in Miko’s makeup chair, each half of her face done up with different ageing makeup to see what worked best on stage; she was playing Daniel’s mother.

“You ever think about opening an acting school? Think of all the hopeful young actors you could terrorize.”

“Very funny. I’m gonna have a bruise, you mark my words.” Rodney turned back to his phone and saw he had a message from Sheppard.

_Dinner tonight. My treat._

Rodney sighed. What was he going to do about Sheppard? He’d completely embarrassed himself in front of the man, and still Sheppard wanted to spend time with him. He was relentless. Rodney could do without the pity.

Laura craned her neck to read the message. “Aww, that’s nice. John’s a really sweet guy.”

“I don’t know why he’s so bound and determined to hang out with me. I’d have thought the drunken karaoke would’ve convinced him I’m not suitable for human contact.”

Laura punched him in the arm. “Geez, give it a rest already. Jennifer screwed you over and you had a little trouble dealing. It doesn’t make you some kind of freak.”

“He called the cops!”

“He was worried about you!” Laura countered. “Not everyone is your soon-to-be-ex, Rodney. Some of us like you just the way you are.”

Rodney wanted to protest and defend Jennifer, but Laura would’ve just smacked him again. And she had a point. Their whole relationship had sometimes seemed like an endless series of suggestions from Jennifer on how he could relate better to other people and be a better friend and get a more stable job.

“Let him take you to dinner. Have a fun time out. You can never have too many friends, am I right?”

“I guess.” Except Rodney was pretty sure friends didn’t spend a lot of time admiring each other’s physiques. Rodney had never thought that about Laura, but he seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time admiring Sheppard’s lean body and his stupid spiky hair and the way he could raise that one eyebrow.

“Laura!” Richard called from somewhere amongst the rows of empty seats. “Center stage. Let’s get a look at that makeup.”

“Coming!” Laura patted Rodney’s cheek. “It’s okay to have fun.”

Maybe it was okay for other people, but Rodney was going through a divorce. His whole plan for the future had been destroyed by a single legal document. He wasn’t in any mood to have fun. 

_Rehearsals running late_ , he texted back. _Rain check?_

*o*o*o*

_I’m coming to visit._

Rodney very manfully resisted the urge to pull his pillow over his head and scream into it. Had he really thought he could avoid his sister indefinitely?

“There’s no room at my place for you.”

_You can sleep on the couch._

“Jeannie, this isn’t a good time. I have rehearsals, I have the trans showcase…I’ll barely be home.”

_I’m fairly certain I can find things to do while I’m waiting._

“Does it have to be now? After the production I’ll have –”

_Mer, I’m coming. Absorb it. Come to terms with it._

Rodney sighed. “And when can I expect you to darken my doorstep?”

_What time is it there?_

“Seven o’clock.”

_Fifteen minutes._

Rodney sat up on the bed. “Fifteen minutes? You can’t be serious.”

_Well, I can’t be absolutely sure. But that’s what the cab driver said._

“You’re unbelievable.”

_See you soon!_

Jeannie ended the call and Rodney sat there looking at his phone. Like death and taxes, his sister was inevitable. At least she wasn’t bringing the whole family, though in that case he probably could’ve convinced her to stay in a hotel.

Twenty minutes later Jeannie came through the front door with Sheppard, the two of them laughing and chatting like old friends.

“Hey there, Meredith,” Sheppard said cheerfully. He was pulling Jeannie’s suitcase behind him. “Look who I picked up in the elevator.”

Rodney flipped him off. Stupid sister, divulging all his secrets in the first five seconds of meeting someone new.

Jeannie staved off a rant by wrapping Rodney in a hug, and then held him at arm’s length, looking him over with a critical eye. “You look terrible. Are you eating?”

“You’ve been here a whole minute and I’m ready for you to leave,” Rodney replied grumpily. “I’m fine. I eat. I sleep. Do you want a full rundown of my bathroom habits?”

“Pass,” Sheppard said. “Jeannie, I’ll put your suitcase in McKay’s room.”

“I can’t sleep on the couch, I have a bad back.”

Jeannie brushed past him. “It’s just a couple of days. You’ll survive. This is a really great apartment, Mer.”

“Did you think I was living in a rat-infested hovel?”

“Jeez, you’re prickly. Nice view.” Jeannie stood by the terrace door. 

Rodney dropped down on the couch with a sigh. “Why are you really here?”

“I wanted to apologize,” she said without turning around.

“Must be the end of the world,” Rodney replied sourly. Jeannie almost never apologized for anything. He assumed it was a female thing, since Jennifer had also been adept at never apologizing even when she’d clearly been in the wrong.

“You’re better off without Jennifer. Mer, you deserve the chance to find someone who appreciates you. Maybe almost as much as you appreciate yourself.” Jeannie finally turned around and regret was written all over her face. “I just want you to be happy.”

Rodney wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He and Jeannie really didn’t have a touchy-feely relationship. They showed affection by exchanging barbs and sarcastic remarks, not endearments.

“I’m doing okay.”

“You could be doing better. You sign the papers yet?”

He shook his head. The divorce papers were stuffed in the bottom of his sock drawer, out of sight and out of mind. Signing them felt too much like failure and he hadn’t been able to do it. Jennifer had messaged him with a reminder that if he didn’t sign and return them soon, she’d get a divorce by default. There was no avoiding it.

Sheppard reappeared. “So. Who’s hungry?”

*o*o*o*

“I know how lucky I am.”

Rodney waited in the wings, watching Ali’s one act play and nodding along with the dialogue. He’d personally mentored her throughout the process and made sure she had the coveted final slot in the showcase. 

The response from the underage trans community had been enormous, and paring down the submissions to eight individual plays had been difficult. Depending on the critical and financial response, Rodney fully expected that they’d be doing similar showcases in the future, for other underrepresented groups.

“You don’t know how it feels, what I’m going through,” Ali said to the audience. “But you support me and you love me. You surround me with acceptance. Without you I couldn’t be my authentic self, which is all I ever wanted.”

Her performance was essentially a love letter to her father, the cop. An excellent note to end the showcase on, especially after some of the brutal pieces that had been included. The audience loved it, everyone on their feet and applauding when Ali finished up. Rodney could see Evan in the front row, grinning even as he wiped the tears from his face.

Ali came running backstage. “They liked it!”

“Of course they did. You were amazing.” Rodney gave her fist bump, then wrangled the other kids and had them all go back on stage as a group. The house lights came up and pictures were taken.

“That was amazing,” Laura said, one hand pressed over her heart. “They were all so good!”

“Their stories need telling,” Daniel said. He and Laura stood on either side of Rodney.

It had been Daniel’s idea in the first place. He was ATG’s activist-in-residence, always out at marches and protests. Even Rodney had to admit that the showcase was a great way to shine a light on the trans community, particularly by focusing on its younger members. The kids who hadn’t made the cut were represented in the program, along with a snippet of their story. Elizabeth wanted to compile all the submissions into a book.

Sheppard was on his feet next to Evan, hands cupped around his mouth as he cheered for Ali. Rodney watched him, the way he moved, the way his smile lit up his whole face. Cam was a damn lucky guy.

“Ali can’t stop talking about John,” Laura said, giving Rodney a side-eyed look. “She really likes him.”

“Good for her,” Rodney replied. 

He joined the kids on stage to make a quick speech thanking the audience and reminding them that the performances would be ongoing throughout the next two weeks. Hopefully word of mouth and coverage by the local news would keep the seats filled for the duration.

Ali grabbed hold of his arm before he could walk offstage. “Mr. McKay? My dad is having a little party at our place, to celebrate. Do you think you could come?”

She looked so hopeful and maybe even a little nervous, but Rodney wasn’t sure he wanted to be around her father and the reminder of his stupid behavior on Valentine’s Day.

“Please? John’s coming and if you’re there maybe he won’t be too lonely.”

“Why on earth would he be lonely?”

“Didn’t you know?” Ali frowned at him, and Rodney didn’t much care to be judged by a fourteen year old with glitter in her hair. “John and his boyfriend broke up.”

As a matter of fact, Rodney hadn’t known. Why hadn’t Cam said something? Not that they saw each other much, but he could’ve texted. Rodney looked back at the house seats and saw that John was still there, talking animatedly with Ali’s father and several other parents as well. He didn’t look like a man who’d been through a breakup.

Or maybe everyone just did them better than Rodney.

“I’ll be there,” he said to Ali. “Just don’t try and feed me anything with citrus in it. I’m deathly allergic.”

“Thank you, Mr. McKay!” Ali kissed him on the cheek and practically leaped off the stage to join Evan and Sheppard.

Maybe Cam wasn’t so lucky after all.

*o*o*o*

"You did _what_?" Rodney stared at Sheppard, who was very calmly setting their small kitchen table for four people.

"I thought it would be nice to get to know our neighbors."

"Why the hell would we want to do that?"

Rodney didn't know anyone in the building and he was happy with that arrangement. Just as soon as they started making friends, those friends would start dropping by at random moments. Next thing he knew there'd be regular dinner parties and all sorts of demands on his free time.

"Derek is nice, and I think you'll really like his sister. She's a hand model."

"A hand model?" Rodney rolled his eyes. "Also, he lives with his sister? That's not creepy at all."

Sheppard gave him a sour look. "There's nothing creepy about it. You wouldn't ever live with Jeannie?"

"Hell no. Best day of my life was moving out for college."

"Try to be nice, okay?"

"I'm perfectly capable of being nice."

"Well, tonight will be an excellent time to put that into practice." The doorbell rang. "That'll be the food. Go get changed."

Rodney looked down at himself. He was wearing jeans and his _It's A Theatre Thing_ t-shirt, which he thought was perfectly acceptable for dinner with complete strangers. But it seemed important to Sheppard, so he grudgingly went and changed into something a bit dressier.

Maybe Sheppard wanted to hook up with the brother. He was single again, as Ali had so generously pointed out. Rodney hadn't realized how much more time his roommate had been spending around the apartment. Or maybe he’d been too busy enjoying having him around more.

When the Cranes arrived – Derek and Debra – Rodney had a smile plastered on his face. Derek didn't seem like much at first glance: he wasn't as handsome as Cam, or half as charming. The sister was moderately attractive and very well endowed, but she insisted on wearing thin white gloves to protect her hands and that was off-putting.

Over pre-dinner cocktails, though, Rodney warmed up to Derek. It turned out he had a pretty sharp mind in that bland head, and they were soon engrossed in a conversation about recent technological advances and if that meant they were getting even closer to Skynet and the downfall of the human race.

“If you think about it,” Derek said thoughtfully, glass in hand, “we’ll be brought down by our own laziness. We want the tech to do all the hard work for us so we can sit back and reap the benefits without exerting any energy or brainpower.”

Debra clucked her tongue at him. “Is this really appropriate conversation for a dinner party?”

“Is it a party with just four people?” Rodney wondered.

“You only need two on Xbox live,” Sheppard said.

“That’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Rodney didn't know what was up with Sheppard. If he was trying to impress Derek, he was failing miserably. He didn't rise to any of the interesting conversational gambits that Rodney threw his way, even though Rodney knew for a fact he could discuss them at length. Instead, Sheppard kept trying to drag Debra into the conversation. It was a waste of his time, because she was about as interesting to talk to as dry toast.

It continued through dinner, Sheppard interrupting Rodney's and Derek's discussion about the trend of movie franchise reboots so that Debra could talk about her most recent hand modeling job for a jewelry catalog.

“The ring got stuck on my finger, and the only way they could get it off was using butter. It was the craziest thing!”

Rodney was wrong. _That_ was the saddest thing he’d ever heard.

“You should come upstairs some time,” Derek said, leaning towards Rodney across the table. “I have all the Harryhausen movies.”

“Oh yeah? Even _20 Million Miles to Earth_?”

“Of course!”

“I haven’t seen that since I was a kid,” Rodney said. He remembered watching movies like that late at night, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch with his secret stash of chocolates. “CGI is amazing technology, but the things that man could do with stop motion are unparalleled.”

Sheppard pushed back from the table, his chair scraping across the floor with a screech. “McKay, can I see you in the living room for a minute?”

He sounded as angry as he looked, his words clipped and sharp. He stalked off without waiting, and Rodney was left to make apologies to their guests before he followed.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked as soon as he was clear of the kitchen. “I’ll remind you that this dinner party was your idea.”

Sheppard stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed and scowling. “You’re supposed to be making friends with Debra.”

“What? Why? She’s the world’s most boring woman.” Rodney couldn’t imagine any benefits to being that woman’s friend, unless… “Are you trying to set us up?”

“Why else would she be here?”

“Are you insane? No, I mean it. Have you had a brain fever? A lobotomy? I’m married!” Rodney started pacing. He couldn’t believe Sheppard’s gall. Where did he get the nerve to meddle in Rodney’s love life?

“You’re divorced,” Sheppard snappishly reminded him. “I thought it might make you feel better, knowing that there are other women out there who’re interested in you. Better women.”

“Better. The hand model is better? If you weren’t trying to make time with Derek I’d much rather you fixed me up with _him_. We have more in common.”

Sheppard stared at him, his expression so blank that Rodney was sure he was having a stroke or something.

“Sheppard?”

“You’re straight.”

“You’re a lunatic.” Rodney threw his hands up and headed back to the kitchen. Sheppard grabbed him by the arm and pulled him around. “Hey!”

“You like Derek?”

“No, idiot. _You_ like Derek, that’s why…oh. He’s only here to get the sister you wanted to foist off on me. Right?”

“Because you’re straight,” Sheppard insisted, and he was sounding a little desperate. He didn’t let go of Rodney’s arm, and Rodney was all too aware of how close they were standing. His heart pounded.

“I’m bi, which is none of your business.” 

Rodney could’ve pulled away at any time, but he kind of liked the way Sheppard’s hand felt wrapped around his arm. And he liked the way Sheppard smelled of Aqua Velva, and whatever gunk he put in his hair. It was an inappropriate reaction to his roommate’s incredible invasion of his privacy and his stupid assumptions, but Rodney couldn’t help it.

“Is it finalized?”

“Is what finalized?”

John’s grip tightened. “The divorce.”

Rodney opened his mouth, ready to let Sheppard really have it because he just couldn’t go around asking people questions like that. He was going to tell Sheppard to go fuck himself, to butt out of his business, to start looking for a new apartment.

“Yes,” he heard himself say instead.

In the next instant he was crushed up against Sheppard’s chest while Sheppard kissed him like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Rodney forgot all about Derek and Debra and his divorce. The only awareness he had was of Sheppard’s lips moving against his, Sheppard’s tongue mapping his mouth, Sheppard’s hand at the small of his back, holding him close.

When Sheppard pulled back from the kiss they were both panting like sprinters at the end of a race, and Rodney felt dizzy and slow, like he’d been roofied.

He had so many questions. “What?” was all he could get out.

Sheppard looked at him, his expression as open as Rodney had ever seen it. 

“Fuck.”

Without another word Sheppard walked out the front door, leaving Rodney standing alone in the living room wondering what the hell just happened.


	6. April

**April**

“I should probably go.”

John didn’t know what he’d been thinking, going to Cam’s. Except that he needed someone to talk to and Cam was the first person he’d thought of. He'd spent the last two nights at a hotel, hiding like some kind of coward from both his friends and McKay. He needed to man up but he couldn't seem to get his timing right about anything lately.

"No, it's fine," Cam assured him. He was wrapped in a bedsheet and his hair was mussed in a way John was more than familiar with. "Get in here. You look like shit."

"I feel like shit." 

John edged into the apartment, looking around for signs of whoever Cam was sharing his bed with. The breakup had been his idea but he still felt a little jab of jealousy that Cam had replaced him already.

He sat on the couch and Cam sat in his recliner, and for a long moment they just stared at each other, until Cam chuckled ruefully.

"This is weirder than I thought it'd be."

"Yeah," John agreed. "Look, I'm sorry about -"

Cam waved his apology away. "Don't. It's okay."

Another awkward silence, and then John blurted out "I fucked up. Royally. Irreversibly. Completely."

"Well, that sounds dire. Did something happen at work?"

"I kissed McKay."

Cam's eyebrows went up. "I have to say, I wasn't expecting that."

"Neither was I." John scrubbed his hands over his face. He thought he'd been dealing with his increasingly inconvenient crush on his roommate, but watching him at dinner getting so cozy with Derek had just pushed him over the edge. The revelation that McKay could be just as attracted to men as women hadn't helped.

"So what happened?"

John laid it all out for Cam. How McKay had gotten under his skin, how John had tried to fix him up with the vapid hand model, how they'd kissed.

"I didn't even really like him when we first moved in together," John said. "He can be pretty self-involved, and just plain rude. He has no filter when he talks to people."

"But?"

"But. He took the time to mentor my friend's daughter. She couldn’t stop talking about how much he helped her. And there’s this homeless woman he’s always giving money to. He sings really bad karaoke. He's fun to talk to."

Cam nodded. "He's got a great ass."

"It's just, I feel like I took advantage of him. He's still messed up about his divorce."

"Have you talked to him about any of this?" 

John shrugged. "I've been staying at a hotel."

"That bad, huh? John, you need to talk to him. If he's upset he'll let you know, believe me. No-one clears the air like Rodney McKay. Has he ever talked to you about his family?"

"I've met Jeannie," John said. "She's a trip."

"Well, his parents are dicks. He'd probably be some kind of famous scientist if they hadn't pushed him so hard in that direction. I think he pursued a career in the theater just to spite them." Cam fiddled with the folds on the sheet. "They made him feel pretty worthless most of the time, so he internalizes a lot things he shouldn't. The only reason he married Jennifer was because he didn't think he could do any better."

"Great. As if I wasn't already feeling like an asshole." John dropped his head back on the couch.

"You're not an asshole," Cam said. "You're a good guy. And if Rodney does it for you I think you should see if you can make it work."

"Make what work?" A woman walked out of Cam's bedroom, wearing one of his t-shirts and nothing else. She had long black hair and an Australian accent. "Who's your friend, Cammie?"

She threw herself on Cam's lap and he let out a whoosh of breath. "John, Vala. Vala, John."

"Jeez, is everyone in this city bisexual?" John asked before he could censor himself.

"I'm pan," Vala said with a sultry grin. "Everyone turns me on."

"You mean every _thing_ ," Cam corrected, wrapping his arms around her. 

“Can I help being a sensual person?”

"Vala's an old friend of mine. She comes through town a couple times a year for work and we get together to catch up."

"I'd be happy to catch up with you too, pretty boy," Vala said. She gave John a slow, thorough once-over that left him feeling vaguely uncomfortable. "I bet you and Cam look yummy together."

"He only likes boys, sweetheart," Cam replied. "And he's trying to make it work with one in particular."

"Pity. Well, if you ever feel up to some experimenting, John, you just let me know."

"Yeah. I'll do that." John pushed himself up off the couch. “I’m gonna go.”

“Good luck,” Cam said. “You’re gonna need it.”

*o*o*o*

“Yes! Ha! In your stupid faces!” Aiden scooped up the chips, a gleeful grin on his face. “Suck it, losers!”

“Wow. You really are a sore winner, aren’t you?” Amelia threw a pretzel at his head. “We’re definitely not letting you win another hand.”

“You didn’t let me win,” Aiden scoffed, but John could see he wasn’t sure.

“I guess we’ll never know,” Amelia replied loftily. 

“Ante up.” Evan shuffled the cards, doing it so quickly and so neatly he could’ve been a Vegas dealer. “Seven card stud, aces wild.”

He dealt the cards as quickly as he shuffled them, two down and one up for each player. John was showing a ten of hearts.

“First bet is to you, Mr. Bigshot Winner.”

Aiden frowned at his two of diamonds and tossed a chip in the pot.

“So how’d it go?” Ronon asked, giving John a cocked eyebrow. “Sparks?”

John shook his head. “McKay’s been practically living at the theater. The show opens this weekend.”

Evan gave John a rueful look. “I know what you mean. Laura and I haven’t seen each other in two weeks. It’s all texts and phone calls at odd hours of the day.”

“I already have tickets,” Amelia said. “I’m excited to finally get a chance to lay eyes on John’s man.”

“He’s not my man.”

“You going?” Ronon asked John. 

“He left me a ticket.” 

It had been sitting out on the kitchen counter, his name attached via a small yellow sticky note. John hoped that meant McKay wasn’t pissed at him about the kiss and dodge, but it was hard to be certain since they hardly saw each other. And when John’s roommate was home, he was either snoring loud enough to shake the windows or he was running lines in his room.

“That’s a good sign,” Amelia said. She snuck a peek at her down-facing cards. “He wouldn’t want you to come if he didn’t still like you, right?”

“Maybe he’s trying to be the bigger person,” Aiden suggested. “I mean, you’re the one who bailed.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“Just keepin’ it real, man.”

Evan dealt the next round of cards, adding a ten of spades to what John had showing. His down card was a queen. Aiden had the lowest card again, so he started off the next round of betting.

“You think you’ll go for it?” Amelia asked. “Once you and Rodney get a chance to talk? Or do you think he won’t want to?”

John shrugged. “Maybe I’m not his type.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a thing. Do you own a mirror?”

“He’s more than just a pretty face,” Ronon said. “I fold.”

Aiden laughed. “Ha! Now who’s origami?”

“Still you.”

John let the banter wash over him as he tried to focus on the cards. Could he keep on living with McKay and wanting him from afar? He hesitated to use the word _pining_ , but it wasn’t completely inaccurate. McKay was a good man, and he deserved to be with someone who appreciated him, who accepted him warts and all. John thought maybe he could be that someone.

“Hey. John. It’s your bet.”

John snapped out of his reverie. “Sorry.” He tossed another chip on the growing pile.

If only he felt as confident betting his heart as he did his money.

*o*o*o*

“This is Teyla. We met at the bar.”

John shook her hand. Teyla was petite but surprisingly muscled, and she had a really firm handshake.

“You mean this bar? Right now?”

They were in the lobby of the Atlantis Theater, getting some refreshments during intermission. There were stained glass panels hung asymmetrically around the lobby, backlit so they glowed.

Ronon grinned. “She stole my drink.”

“I did no such thing,” Teyla said. “We ordered the same drink, and I thought it was mine.”

Trust Ronon to hook up with someone in the middle of a play. He mouthed _sparks_ at John, who gave him the subtlest thumbs up he could manage.

“Are you enjoying the show?” Teyla asked. “I understand your roommate is one of the leads.”

Intermission had only been going on for five minutes, how had Ronon had the time to fill her in?

“Rodney McKay. He’s playing Paul.”

And yes, John was enjoying the show for the most part. It was funny, as Neil Simon productions usually were, and Rodney was doing one hell of a job playing the uptight lawyer. It was just…he hadn’t realized there’d be so much kissing. McKay and his male costar had spent most of the first act locking lips, looking every bit the newlywed couple they were portraying, and John couldn’t help wishing it was him up there instead of that Daniel guy.

“He is a very good actor. I believe I have seen him in other productions here as well.”

“Teyla runs a martial arts studio two blocks up,” Ronon said with a big grin.

What was it with everyone and the heart eyes lately? Maybe John and McKay weren’t meant to be together since there wasn’t that instant attraction, not like he was seeing now with Ronon or saw on Valentine’s Day with Evan and Laura. Sure, John and McKay’d had sparks but not romantic ones.

“Hey, guys.” 

Speaking of Evan, he strode over from the bar with what was probably just a soda in one hand – John had never seen him drink alcohol, not even a beer – and his other arm draped over Ali’s shoulder. John’s free ticket had put him right next to them in the third row.

“Dad wouldn’t let me get a glass of wine,” Ali pouted. She was wearing a knee-length black dress and a little black jacket, easily more dressed up than John was in jeans and a button-down shirt.

“Stop asking me to break the law,” Evan said congenially. “Ungrateful child.”

Ali rolled her eyes. “Mr. McKay is doing a great job, don’t you think?”

“He is very good,” Teyla replied.

Ronon didn’t look like he was going to make any introductions, so John tried to. Evan waved him off.

“We met at the bar.”

“You clean up nice, Barney,” Amelia said, joining them. She had a man on her arm, a big, burly guy that looked like he’d been poured into his suit. “This is Roger. He works out of the station in Lower Elm.”

Roger grunted a greeting, and Amelia patted his arm while she introduced herself to Teyla.

“No date for you John?”

“I’m his date,” Ali said. “It’s a May-December romance.”

John choked on a laugh, and Evan looked affronted.

“What am I? Canned Spam?”

Ali shrugged. “I can’t help it if your date is onstage being someone’s mom. Besides, being on a date with my dad is like lame and creepy all at the same time.”

Evan pointed a finger at John. “What are your intentions, young man?”

John held up his hands. “I’m taking her to the nearest nunnery.”

“Hey!” Ali protested.

Everyone laughed, and Evan made a show of planting a big, wet, smacking kiss on his daughter’s cheek. John felt a wave of affection roll over him, almost stealing his breath. He loved these people, who had become more of a family to him than his actual family. When had that happened?

The lights in the lobby flickered, a sign that the second half was about to start. John had never seen _Barefoot in the Park_ , so he didn’t know what was coming next. He sincerely hoped it wasn’t more kissing.

*o*o*o*

"What are you doing out here?"

John yawned and stretched. He'd sacked out on the couch waiting for McKay to get back from the theater.

"Waiting for you." John sat up and rubbed at his face. "The show was really good. You probably hear this a lot, but you're a damn good actor."

McKay's face flushed. John could see the remnants of his stage makeup by his ears and along his hairline.

"Thanks. I, uh. I wasn't sure you'd come."

"Can we talk?"

"The words we've been saying to each other? That's how talking works. We're already doing it."

And there was the snarky McKay John had grown so fond of. "Sit down, McKay."

"It's late."

"I won't keep you from your beauty rest. Just give me five minutes."

McKay sat on the other end of the couch, as far from John as he could get. John took a deep breath and mustered up his courage. He wasn't a big fan of talking about himself, or how he was feeling about things, but they needed to clear the air.

"I'm sorry I kissed you," John said. McKay immediately tensed up, and John held up his hand. "I'm sorry because I should have asked first. I was just...upset. And jealous."

"Jealous?" McKay echoed. He was studying John like some kind of science experiment. "I don't understand. You were trying to set me up with that ridiculous woman."

"I thought you were straight. I thought..."

McKay's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh my god. You're an idiot."

"Thanks." John looked down at his hands. "I just don't want you to think -"

He didn't know how McKay crossed the space between them so quickly, but the next thing John knew the man was practically sitting in his lap, kissing him senseless. They hadn't really resolved anything, but John didn't care. He wrapped his arms around McKay, holding on tight, and gave himself over to the kiss.

Minutes, or maybe hours, later they were curled up together on the couch. John ran his hand lazily through McKay's hair, lightly massaging his scalp.

"So, I know I said six months," McKay said. "But I don't think I'll be moving after all."

"I'm sure we can re-negotiate," John replied with a smirk.

McKay leaned back and pressed a quick kiss on John's lips. "You know, I had a moment of revelation when I signed the divorce papers. You want to hear it?"

"I don't know. Do I?"

"I wasn't really mourning the end of my marriage with Jennifer. I always knew we weren't well-suited for each other. She was always trying to get me to get a 'real job' and act nicer and basically stop being me." McKay sighed. He traced swirling shapes on John's jeans. "What I think I really miss is being part of a couple. Having someone to come home to, to complain about work with. Just...not being alone."

"I miss that, too," John whispered. His marriage had been a sham, but for a little while he'd been able to pretend that he was the most important person in someone's life. He hadn't felt like that in a long, long time.

"Then let's stop missing it."

John kissed the side of McKay's head. "Yeah. Okay."

Barrymore chose that moment to jump on the couch. He kneaded at McKay's belly a few times before curling up on it. 

"Hey. He didn't growl at me," John said in surprise.

"It's a sign. He approves."

There was no reason that should've made John's chest so tight. He propped his chin on McKay's shoulder, his arms tightening around the other man. He never wanted to move from that spot.

"Not to change the subject, but do you play poker?"


	7. Epilogue - One Year Later

**Epilogue: One Year Later**

“An announcement, friends!” 

Miko stood in front of the Queen’s throne, though she’d gone a different route with her royal garb. Instead of the usual tightly laced gown and furs, she’d come to the feast wearing an incredibly intricate kimono that she said was of the same time period in Japan. It didn’t look nearly as comfortable as Rodney assumed kimonos to be, but then he thought of them as just simple silk robes and not piles of them layered one over the other.

“I welcome you to our twelfth annual holiday feast, courtesy of our benefactor, the Lady Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth stood and gave a royal wave, even though she was merely a Lady and not the Queen that year.

“Miko’s doing great,” John whispered in Rodney’s ear.

“I told everyone this would be a good idea,” Rodney whispered back, more than a little smug. 

Miko had never been made Queen for their Thanksgiving celebration because she was so painfully shy all the time and her friends didn’t want to overwhelm her. But Rodney had thought otherwise, and made his case well enough that Miko had been crowned at their last staff meeting. She’d blushed and protested, but in that insanely layered kimono and powdered face she was every bit the royalty she was pretending to be.

“Many thanks to the Lords, Ladies and Knights who brought foodstuffs to share with us all. Without your generosity none of this would be possible.”

There were two tables set perpendicular to each other and absolutely overloaded with food. Elizabeth provided a roasted goose each year, and those little mince pies that Rodney thought were disgusting even without the added citrus, and everyone else brought their signature dishes. Last year John had insisted they make something instead of buying it, and their frumenty, while not quite historically accurate, had been a big hit. They’d refined the recipe a bit and brought it again this year, along with a leg of lamb.

Rodney was starving. There’d already been some musical entertainment, and the official installment of the Queen on her throne. He willed Miko to hurry up already.

“One final presentation before we dine,” Miko said. 

John stood up and Rodney looked at him, curious. He hadn’t known John was going to make a speech. He looked a little nervous, but maybe that was just the leggings. He didn’t like wearing them, but Rodney loved the way his ass looked when he did. They were definitely wearing their costumes home, he didn’t care how much the dry cleaning bill was.

“It’s been a really good year for me,” John said. “Getting to know all of you and the work you do. Getting tenure at Hammond Prep, the least lame prep school in the city.”

Everyone laughed except Rodney, who’d heard that same joke probably twenty times already.

“And getting to know you,” John said. He turned and looked at Rodney. “You changed my life, in all the best ways.”

Rodney knew he was probably getting a goofy look on his face – Laura had called him on it often enough – but he didn’t care. John didn’t get mushy too often and Rodney liked it.

“And I really, really hope I’m not about to screw that up.”

Before Rodney could ask what that meant, John was getting down on one knee and holding a little velvet box in his hand, and holy shit, he was proposing! To Rodney! In front of Rodney’s friends and co-workers! His heart was pounding so hard he was sure everyone could hear it.

“Our first marriages showed us all the wrong things to do to keep a relationship healthy. So I think the second time is going to be the charm.” John opened the box and revealed a sterling silver Claddagh ring. “What do you say, Rodney? Want to take a chance on me?”

“I don’t know,” Rodney said. He paused for effect. “I’d say you’re a pretty sure bet.”

“Drama King,” John mouthed. 

Rodney pulled him in for a kiss. “Romantic sap,” he murmured against John’s mouth.

John slipped the ring on Rodney’s finger with the heart pointing out, which he said was a sign of engagement. Everyone cheered, and toasted, and then Rodney and John were in the middle of a sea of people offering hugs and slaps on the back.

Rodney couldn’t stop grinning, and he kept tight hold to John’s hand. This time it was going to be different, because _he_ was different. Rodney knew he wasn’t just settling for a pretty face this time. John was the whole package, and so much more, and Rodney was going to try really hard not to screw things up.

“This time is forever,” he said for John’s ears only as the food finally started getting passed around. 

“The odds are good,” John replied with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** I need to thank nagi_schwarz so much for the support and the beta work on this. You're the best! And also thanks to the story_works mods for another cool writing challenge! And the posting extension.
> 
> As with all my movie fusions, I was watching a movie and started thinking, "I could McShep the heck out of this." I watched the movie, then I watched some eps from the old TV show. (That's where the tagline comes from about two divorced men living together.) The elements I ended up keeping were obviously having John and Rodney become roommates, the regular poker games, Rodney's belief that he'd get back together with his wife, and John being worried about Rodney killing himself. And instead of the Pigeon Sisters, I had the Cranes.


End file.
